


hold on to your heart

by prouveyrac



Series: vampire AU [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, M/M, Vampire AU, if you haven't read 'my blood is singing with your voice', part 2 of the vampire au, youre gonna be super confused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-05-27 13:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15025478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouveyrac/pseuds/prouveyrac
Summary: Virgil liked normal. Virgil liked things remaining normal and the same as they were before a murderous vampire ripped him from his car. Virgil wanted nothing more than to believe that things could easily be "normal" again.(moxiety spin-off sequel, takes place during the year gap in the epilogue of "my blood is singing with your voice")





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> hey all!!! what tf is up!!! the spin-off is officially starting!!! i'm super excited to show you guys virgil and patton's part of the story, but all i ask is that you guys have patience with me concerning updates. this spin-off sometimes really stresses me out because i want to give you guys the full, complete mbiswyv-era, so i tend to overthink everything i have planned and then get super stressed out. so, updates might be a bit slower than the beginning updates of mbiswyv were, but i am really excited to show you guys what i have planned!!!
> 
> also, if you haven't read "my blood is singing with your voice" and you're here, you're gonna be pretty confused. i personally recommend reading it as it seems like people really liked it!!! :)
> 
> TW(s): ***anxiety/anxiety attack, nightmares, villain deceit (D.C.)

Virgil knew when he was eighteen that becoming a monster hunter was going to make his life—the life that he dubbed “slightly mundane” and others dubbed “slightly tragic”—go from zero to one-hundred real fast. He was throwing himself into a lifetime of life-or-death situations and long winded nights that did worse and worse on his heart rate each time around. That he all expected. He was, after all, venturing into a life of fighting against the creatures he used to read about in picture books. The only thing different between those picture books and Virgil’s life was that one was guaranteed a happily ever after and the other was realistic.

(And also the fact that Virgil, instead of eliminating all the evil, bad creatures in one huge battle full of explosions and whatever other magic, he became friends with one—yes, the one that his best friend was dating—and put an “it’s complicated” sticker on the other. But Virgil digressed.)

However, if he knew that, at twenty-five, he was going to be ripped from his car by a vampire that had plans to use him as bait against the  _ other _ vampires and then probably kill him, he would have at least thought to ask for a pay raise.

Still, though, he knew he at least got days off with an indefinite end. He had a feeling “hey I almost died” was a good enough reason for the agency to give him time off. Maybe he’d be able to finish off August in one piece.

Virgil huffed out a sigh as he slumped down in the uncomfortable chair of the hospital waiting room. It had only been five minutes since he signed out and he was already antsy to be anywhere but the building that smelled like the all too familiar scent of antiseptic. Preferably, he’d like for Roman to be there now to pick him up so he could go back to his apartment and sleep for at least three days straight, but he’d be fine with walking in the heat if Roman wasn’t there in the next five minutes.

He scuffed the toe of his sneaker on the floor and traced a thumb over one of the bandages on his neck. Even after only being applied this morning, one of the corners was already peeling up, though Virgil had a feeling that that was his fault. The last nurse he had seen had told him that he could remove the bandages once he got home as long as he did nothing to irritate them again (like being bit by another vampire, for instance).

Virgil, personally, didn’t know if he’d rather walk out in public with bandages plastered over his neck and down under his shirt or with visible bite marks that were so obviously not hickeys. They’d draw attention either way. 

The thought of eyes on him—eyes raking over him because they  _ knew _ what happened, everyone would have seen the news at this point—made Virgil’s skin crawl and he swallowed thickly.

Virgil knew what he had set up for himself when he left that old town to join the agency. He just didn’t expect all the attention that came from being at the center of it all.

Virgil jumped when his phone buzzed and swiped open the text to see that Roman had arrived and was out front. He pushed himself up from the chair and gave a small head nod to the receptionist as he walked out the front doors. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie; he was already sweltering in the heat but, due to circumstances, he could deal.

Roman was parked at the curb. It wasn’t the car that Virgil usually drove.

“Look at you, driving and all,” Virgil said as he slid into the passenger seat. He immediately turned the air vents so that they were blowing cool air directly onto him.

“Yeah, I thought I’d give you a break,” Roman said with his signature grin. “You’ve been driving me everywhere for long enough.”

Virgil shrugged. “Fine by me,” he said and slumped back in his seat. While Roman shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the curb, Virgil curled his knees up to his chest.

“Not a safe way to sit.”

“I’ve been through worse.”

Roman huffed out a laugh. Virgil noted that it sounded more strained than usual. “Still, though, I’m a safe driver who prefers my lovely passenger to be safe as well.”

Virgil scoffed as well. “You? A safe driver?”

“Virgil-”

“Please tell me you’re not going to be walking on eggshells around me,” Virgil cut in and Roman snapped his mouth shut. Virgil sighed and leaned his head back, staring up at the roof of the car. “I need at least one person not acting like I’m going to shatter into pieces every—fucking, I don’t know—two-point-five seconds. Besides, I think with that bite mark on the side of  _ your _ neck, you’re not really able to be all careful and shit.”

Virgil had noticed the bite on Roman’s neck when he first visited him at the hospital. He just didn’t have the energy to bring it up then and believed that then wasn’t even a good time to do so.

Roman smacked a hand to the side of his neck to cover the mark as if that would make it disappear.

Virgil didn’t need the pity and the overbearing shadow looming over his shoulder.

He didn’t  _ want _ the pity and the overbearing shadow looming over his shoulder.

He had been able to pull himself up before when times were, to be blunt, really fucking shitty. He had pushed himself up off the ground before, along with brush off the dust and bandage the cuts. And, most of all, he forced himself to keep walking because he had no other choice but to move forward.

Now shouldn’t be any different.

He didn’t want it to be any different.

Especially not from Roman.

“Virgil, I-I’m sorry,” Roman stammered out. The genuine surprise in his voice caused something in Virgil’s gut to twist. “I didn’t realize-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Virgil said, looking back at Roman. “I-” he sighed “-I know that you’re looking out for me. I know that you were worried and, believe me, so was I, but…” He trailed off and worried his bottom lip, casting a look back out the window. He squinted against the bright sun in his face. “Everyone else over the next… lifetime, I guess, is going to remember that I almost died.” The word tasted bitter on Virgil’s tongue. “And they’re gonna keep acting like I am always about to die. I need you to stay normal on me.” He looked back to Roman. “Please.”

Roman furrowed his eyebrows. “Normal about what?”

Virgil smiled and, when Roman glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, he smiled back. “Thanks, Ro. And, uh, sorry for snapping at you.”

Roman waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I think I deserved it anyway.”

“Still, I mean, I shouldn’t have called you out like that when you’re just worried and-”

“Virgil,” Roman cut in and Virgil shut his mouth. Roman gave him an easy smile. “It’s okay.”

Virgil took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay,” he said and slumped back in his seat. “So, you and Logan?”

Roman, understanding what Virgil was asking, coughed awkwardly and nodded. “Uh, yeah,” he answered. “It was for him to be stronger, like, against D.C.. And I was the one to ask him. He didn’t hurt me or-”

“I’m not accusing you two of anything,” Virgil interjected, though he wouldn’t deny the protectiveness bubbling up in him. “Just asking. And telling you to tell him that, if he does do anything, I will kill him.”

Roman laughed as he pulled up in front of Virgil’s apartment. “I’ll be sure to tell him.” 

“Good,” Virgil said and took a look at his apartment out the window. “Well, home sweet home.”

“Yeah,” Roman breathed and pushed his door open. “Now, come on, let’s get inside. I’m sure you want to.”

Virgil was glad to find that, yes, he did remember to lock his apartment before he was abducted. Having a near death experience was one thing; his apartment being robbed was a whole other tragedy.

It was messy, though, which was unfortunate.

“You go wash up or nap or whatever,” Roman said once they were settled in. “I’ll take care of cleaning this place up.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Ro.”

“Oh, I know,” he responded, already heading to the drainboard to put any leftover dishes away. “But I want to. Now go, be somewhere else and relax.”

Virgil smiled. “Thanks.”

Roman grinned at Virgil over his shoulder. “Just always remember how kind I am.”

“I’ll try,” Virgil said, already walking to the hall closet. He grabbed a set of towels and headed into the bathroom.

Alone under the lighting, the door locked behind him, Virgil released a deep breath and leaned over the counter to look at his reflection. The dark circles under his eyes could be seen from miles away and just looking at them made Virgil more tired than he already was. His cheeks seemed sunken in, but he had a feeling that extreme blood loss, stress, and exhaustion did that. His hair was in need of a proper washing and his clothes were wrinkled.

And then his eyes drifted down to the bandages on his neck. Swallowing thickly, he slipped off his hoodie and then pulled off his t-shirt. He traced a hand over the line of bandages that went from the side of his neck to over his left shoulder.

Worrying his bottom lip, he gently started to peel each one off, discarding them on the counter. Each mark seemed worse than the other and ugly, green bruising sat beneath each one. Virgil’s stomach twisted at seeing how many there were and wondered if D.C. thought this would kill him quicker or if he was just having fun torturing Virgil.

Virgil ran a finger over the one on the side of his neck. It was, without a doubt, the worst one. Cutting deep, he could easily feel where D.C.’s fangs had been and, if Virgil was being honest, he thought that would be the one to kill him.

He thought all of them would be the one to kill him.

Despite being stuck in that warehouse for days, Virgil barely remembered any of it. Only bits and pieces remained and the majority of them was the pain that ripped through his body every time D.C. reopened a wound. He could still feel the lightness of his mind, stricken with blood loss that, each time, he didn’t know if he’d bounce back from.

He remembered seeing Roman and thinking he was hallucinating. That it was just life’s last cruel joke to him before he died.

He remembered D.C. tearing into his throat one last time and-

Virgil’s breathing hitched and he couldn’t ignore the panic rising in him. His chest felt heavy, as if someone had set a weight on it, and his heart was hammering against his ribcage. His hands clenched the counter as a wave of nausea passed over him and he forced himself to suck in a breath through gritted teeth.

In for four.

Virgil’s alive, he had to keep reminding himself that he was alive, that D.C. didn’t-

Hold for seven.

_ This isn’t working, this isn’t working, this isn’t- _

The knock on the door was so sudden that Vigil was sure he would’ve yelped out if he wasn’t so focused on trying to calm his racing heart.

“Y-yeah?” he forced out and hoped it didn’t sound strained.

Roman, on the other side, hesitated and Virgil clamped his fists shut, his nails digging into his palms. Maybe Roman heard something in his voice and maybe he thought that something was wrong and he was going to ask Virgil about it and he was going to think that Virgil was-

“Virge, I’m gonna be honest,” Roman said. Nerves rose up in Virgil’s throat. “I think something died in your fridge. Do you want me to, like, take care of that?”

Virgil released a shuddered breath and he shoved his shaking hands into his pockets. “O-Oh,” he said. “Uh, yeah, can you?”

“Of course,” Roman said and Virgil heard him walk away from the door.

Virgil swallowed and turned back to the mirror. He stared hard at it and hated the pale, shaking figure that stared back.

He could handle this.

He had to be able to handle this.

After showering off the skin-crawling hospital feeling and maybe half of his nerves, Virgil walked out of his bedroom wearing the first set of clothes he could find that were big enough to not feel like he was being choked. Roman was sat on his couch, his head resting lazily on one hand while the other scrolled aimlessly on his phone.

“Thanks for helping out,” Virgil said, flopping down next to him.

“I always will,” he replied. “Besides, you helped me vampire-proof my apartment, the least I could do is help clean yours.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and rested his head on Roman’s shoulder. “You literally made me tape sheets to your windows. Logan can’t even be killed in the sun. And you made me tape sheets to your windows.” He looked down at Roman’s screen. D.C. had rudely destroyed his own phone and now Virgil was beginning to feel antsy having nothing to do with his hands.

“Hey! I was nervous!” Roman defended. “We were still in that I-don’t-know-if-you’re-going-to-hurt-me phase so I had to at least keep him happy.”

Virgil snorted. “And what phase are you in now?” Roman smirked at Virgil and cocked an eyebrow. Virgil groaned. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Roman laughed and shook his head. “Actually, we’re doing good,” he said. “I mean, D.C. kinda threw everything off course with... everything because he was, like, an asshole, to say the least. But I think things are returning back to normal.”

Normal. Virgil liked normal. Normal meant nothing was different and Virgil was moving on, everyone was moving on.

“And how’s Patton?” Virgil asked, trying to ignore the sudden resurfacing of nerves.

He knew that Patton was the one that did it, was the one that saved Virgil’s (and probably Roman’s) life. He knew that Patton survived it, but something tugged in the back of Virgil’s mind, something that felt a lot like the need to know that Patton not only survived it, but that he was _ surviving _ after it.

“Patton’s doing fine,” Roman casually said with a shrug. Anyone else would have brushed it off as the truth, simple and straightforward, but Virgil, after knowing Roman for so long, thought otherwise. “I mean, yeah, he’s a bit shaken after everything. But he’s handling it.”

“Are you sure?” Virgil picked at his cuticles, staring down intently at them. “Is he doing okay?”

“He’s as well as he can be right now,” Roman continued, and Virgil looked up to a smile on his face that Virgil believed was supposed to be reassuring. “You can talk to him when you see him.”

At Roman’s blatant deflection, at Roman’s vague answers, something twisted in Virgil’s gut. Roman wasn’t telling him everything, and he swallowed down the sour feeling that rose in his throat that came with the knowledge that Roman knew how to lie.

He’d seen Roman do it for weeks, lie about vampires and what he knew about them while hiding two in his own apartment. Virgil would be lying if he said that he wasn’t shocked with how easily Roman did it.

While Virgil tried to convince himself that all was fine, that maybe Roman just didn’t know enough to give a clear answer, something in the back of his mind screamed,  _ He’s hiding something from you. Something isn’t right and he knows it and he knows that you know it, too. He just won’t tell you what. _

Virgil swallowed thickly.

Everything was fine. Everything was fine and everything was going to continue to be fine. Roman promised Virgil that he would keep being regular Roman and that nothing would change.

The sirens in the back of his head had no reason to be heard because they weren’t alerting Virgil of anything real.

\--

As much as Virgil hated to admit it, the last thing he wanted to do was spend the first night back at his apartment alone. Roman, thankfully, being the best friend Virgil has ever had, saw that without Virgil needing to say anything and suggested that Virgil spend the night at his apartment. Logan and Patton would be there as well and, even though they both knew the real reason for Virgil staying over, Roman said that they could teach Logan and Patton how sleepovers worked since, most likely, neither had ever experienced a true sleepover in their long lives.

“It’ll be an enlightening time for them,” Roman had beamed as he helped shove some of Virgil’s belongings into a backpack. “They never got the true childlike experience of sleepovers with friends.”

“Hey, speak for yourself,” Virgil had said. “I don’t think I stayed over anyone’s house as a kid.”

“And all of my quote-on-quote sleepovers were when I would go to my aunt’s house because my dad didn’t feel like being a dad,” Roman had responded back. “So I guess we’re all in the same boat.”

Now, though, as Virgil followed Roman up the stairs to his apartment, he found himself actually excited. He had grown close to Patton and Logan over the past month or so and, he had to admit, something about returning to them felt rather calming, even despite recent… events.

Roman unlocked his apartment door and swung it open, allowing Virgil to go in first.

Virgil was barely through the doorway when he was greeted with an armful of Patton. Patton’s relief radiated off of him and crashed heavily into Virgil and, at the sudden calmness that entered him, Virgil was sure he would’ve melted to the floor had Patton not been holding him up.

Not that he was complaining.

He only hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around Patton’s shoulders. Shorter than Virgil, Patton’s head was buried in his chest and his arms tightly clung around Virgil’s waist. 

“Hi Patton,” Virgil said quietly with a smile, looking down at the blonde head of curls.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Patton mumbled. His voice was muffled by Virgil’s chest.

“I’m glad to be back, too,” Virgil said and meant it.

“Patton, at least let him get in the door.” Virgil looked up to see that Roman had snuck around the two of them and Logan stood in front of them. His arms were crossed over his chest and, when he looked from Patton to Virgil, the smirk that he wore on his face turned to an apologetic smile. “It’s good to see that you’re well, Virgil.”

“Nice to see you too, Dracula.” Logan scoffed with an eye roll and turned away from Virgil, though Virgil didn’t miss the  _ I’m glad that you’re here and healthy, _ that crossed through his mind in a voice that wasn’t his.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Patton said, pulling away after a final squeeze around Virgil’s waist. He looked up at Virgil, his bright blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “I was just… so worried about you, Virge.”

“And Virgil’s back now!” Roman exclaimed, taking Virgil’s bag from him and walking with it down the hall. “We can go back to being one happy family now!”

“We’re more of a clan with some exceptions, but whatever works best,” Logan said. The softness in his voice when speaking to Roman didn’t go unnoticed and something about it made Virgil smile.

“Yeah, exactly,” Patton said, dragging Virgil further in the apartment. He took a seat on the couch with Virgil, crossing his legs underneath him, and turned to look back at Virgil. “Back to normal, right?”

Patton grinned. It didn’t meet his eyes.

“Normal” had been something Virgil planned to return to, but hearing it be said by someone else—by Patton of all people, who Virgil found himself drawn to and worried with since he met him—made it all seem a lot more staged. Like they were all just pretending and seeing who could wear the best mask.

But Virgil wasn’t pretending. He was fine.

Virgil smiled back at Patton and Patton’s grin suddenly seemed a lot more real. “Right,” he said.

\--

The warehouse was different. Distorted. Virgil couldn’t see well, but he should have expected that; he couldn’t see well for a while. 

But he knew that the warehouse was different. The wooden boards of the floor were shifting, constantly creaking and moving under his weight. If he stretched his hand out, he felt nothing next to him, like he was floating in the abyss and he was the only thing left.

Virgil didn’t feel normal.

He hasn’t felt normal for a while.

Maybe it was the blood loss. Blood loss could do that to a person.

Virgil didn’t remember how he’d gotten to the warehouse. He was… he was…

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know much. All he knew was that he was at the warehouse. 

_ Which warehouse? Where is anyone? _

It was a silly question.

He knew he wasn’t alone.

Had he ever been alone? In this hell, was he ever unwatched?

The thing he was with crossed the abyss next to him. He saw shoes drag across the blackness and tear it up, splashing it over onto the wooden boards.

Virgil wanted to speak.

No sound came out.

Did he even try to speak? He couldn’t remember.

The thing stood next to him. Virgil was scared. His hands scrambled on the floorboards, wanting to push himself away and let himself fall into the abyss all around him so that he couldn’t feel this anymore.

Yet this thing could traverse the abyss. It would find him.

It would always find him.

He didn’t know where he was, but it knew.

It always knew.

It bent down next to him and bared the razors in his mouth. Yellow eyes glinted, somehow reflected by the abyss, and Virgil’s throat tightened. A whimper tore from him and the thing cackled.

“Oh, Virgil,” it said. “Don’t even try to speak.”

Virgil stopped trying. He reached out, skimming his hand in the abyss.

“Stop moving.”

Virgil stopped trying.

“Oh, Virgil,” it repeated, its voice sickeningly sweet. “How funny it would be if they never found you. Maybe they never started looking.” He leaned down and his razors grazed Virgil’s throat. “Maybe it’ll just be you and me. Here forever until I’m bored of you. Here forever until there’s nothing left in you.”

Virgil couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, couldn’t anything. He just lied there as razors spoke against his neck.

“Here forever might not be very long for you.”

The thing tore into Virgil’s neck.

Virgil gasped, air rushing into his lungs so fast that it burned, as he shot up. His mind was hazed and, in the darkness, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t see-

_ How funny it would be if they never found you. _

His hands clutched something soft beneath him and reality rushed into him with a sickening wave.

He was in Roman’s room, on a blow-up mattress, a spare blanket clutched in his hands. Roman had offered him his own bed to sleep in but Virgil told him that he’d be fine.

Because he was supposed to be fine.

He wasn’t in the warehouse, a place that he could still barely remember. He was in Roman’s apartment and he was alive. Roman and Logan were in the bed not too far away from him and Patton was somewhere and D.C. was dead.

D.C. was very dead and it was all just a dream.

But then why was Virgil’s heart still pounding so hard in his chest, it echoed against the corners of his mind? Why was his throat tightening and a weight settling over him that seemed ready to smother him into nothing?

His hands shook; his stomach churned. With unsteadiness, he pushed himself up from the air mattress. His feet carried him, stumbled him, into Roman’s bathroom. His hands fumbled for the light switch and to close the door behind him. His skin crawled underneath his clothes and he bent himself over Roman’s sink. 

With labored, short breaths and clenched shut eyes, Virgil waited. Waited for the upheaval of his stomach contents, waited for the feeling to pass, waited for the death that he thought imminent.

Instead, in the dim lighting of Roman’s bathroom, Virgil—with exercises and numbers and fear swimming in his head and nothing clear enough to be understood—felt tears leak out of his eyes and drip into the sink.

His hands gripped the white countertop as his ragged breaths turned into quiet sobs. He shook his head, trying to shake the tears and the thoughts away, and slowly sank to his knees. Resting his forehead against the cabinet beneath the sink, Virgil brought his hands close to his chest and pressed his nails into his palms.

_ Stop it, _ his mind screamed.  _ Pull yourself together before anyone- _

There was a knock at the door.

_ Before anyone finds you. _

Virgil, with a gasp, shot up to his feet, nearly knocking his head on the counter. His legs were shaky and he leaned against the counter to steady himself, though his vision still swam with stars and tears.

“Virgil?” Roman’s voice asked on the other side.

Virgil clamped a hand over his mouth, his face crumpling behind it.

“Are you okay?”

Virgil looked in the mirror and someone wide eyed, pale and shaking with tears streaming down his face and bite marks littering his neck stared back.  _ Virgil _ stared back.

He had to be able to handle this.

But he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

He couldn’t handle this.

How could he return to normal when he never really knew what normal was? How could he return to normal from _ this _ ?

He couldn’t even pull himself together enough to pretend.

“Virgil, I’m coming in.”

In the reflection, Virgil watched as the bathroom door swung open and Roman walked in. The moment Roman’s eyes caught Virgil, Virgil watched them fill with concern. “Virgil?” Roman said quietly.

Virgil couldn’t find it in him to speak. He could just watch with tears flooding from his eyes as Roman dragged a worried gaze down him.

“Come on, Virge, talk to me,” Roman murmured, his voice soft as he closed the door behind them. 

Roman reached out a hand to Virgil and, panicked, Virgil forced out, “Don’t touch me!”

Immediately retracting his hand, Roman nodded. “Okay, I won’t touch you,” he said. “How about we sit down, okay?”

Virgil, slowly, sat down. He leaned his back against the counters while Roman, across from him, leaned against the bathtub.

“What’s that breathing exercise you showed me?” Roman asked. “In for four, hold seven, release for eight, right?” Virgil nodded, his fists clenching his shirt. “How about we do that, okay?”

It took a couple tries, but with Roman quietly counting the numbers and breathing alongside Virgil, Virgil was finally able to stop the tears and breathe without feeling like something was binding around his chest. His spiralling thoughts had yet to disappear, along with the disgust coiling in him that he broke and shattered, but he could breathe. 

Slowly, he released the grip he had on his shirt and looked up to Roman. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Roman gave him an easy smile. “Of course,” he said. 

Virgil worried his bottom lip. “It’s… it’s D.C.” Roman nodded. “It was like I was back there.”

“You’re here, Virge,” Roman said. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Virgil said, huffing out a sigh. “I just… I didn’t want this to affect me. I didn’t want this to change anything. I wanted-” he swallowed thickly “-I wanted everything to be normal.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Roman comforted. “You… you’ve been through a lot lately. No one expects you to be a-okay immediately. I’m all for helping you get back into everyday life, but you shouldn’t be trying to hold off your feelings.”

Virgil shrugged. “I guess,” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. He scratched at his cuticles and wished for the conversation to end.

“Do you want a water?” Roman asked. “I was up to get one anyway. Might as well be nice to you.”

Virgil managed to put a slight smile on his face. “Sure,” he said. Roman pushed himself up from the floor and walked out of the bathroom. As Roman walked into his kitchen, Virgil heard other footsteps approach the door and, when he looked up, he saw Patton staring down at him.

“V?” Patton said quietly and Virgil forced a tired smile.

“Hey Pat,” he said.

“Are you okay?”

Virgil shrugged. “Not feeling too good.”

Patton frowned. “Can I come in?”

“If you want,” Virgil said and scooted aside so that Patton could sit down.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Patton asked, sliding down the cabinet to sit next to him.

Virgil sighed and shook his head. “Not anymore, really.”

Patton nodded. “That’s okay,” he said. “Do you want help?”

Virgil furrowed his eyebrows. “Help?”

Patton reached out a hand and Virgil understood.

Slowly, he took Patton’s hand in his. As if they were waves rolling gently in and out, a sense of calmness started to come into Virgil. He felt as the tension in his shoulders released and whatever remaining anxiety or churning feelings dissipated.

“I’m sorry,” Patton whispered.

Virgil frowned. “For what?”

“That you’re going through this.”

Virgil let the conversation end there, for Roman was returning with two water bottles in hand. And Virgil, despite believing that there was more behind was Patton was saying, didn’t think he was getting much more out of the conversation, anyway.


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are you trying to prove, Virgil?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW(s): illness mention, parent death mention

While sitting across from Roman at a cafe table—the warm, early September air surrounding them, yet to give way to the coming of autumn—Virgil realized, without surprise, that he was incredibly exhausted. Of course he wasn’t surprised. He had been home for just over two weeks and, for just over two weeks, he has yet to have a sleep that could be considered slightly decent.

Not that now was any different from any other sleepless nights Virgil has had over his twenty-five years of life, but… actually, no, everything was very different. Virgil’s past sleepless nights typically didn’t happen because he was scared of what he’d see when he closed his eyes.

And Virgil couldn’t even muster out his go-to lie of  _ “I’m fine,” _ because, frankly, things stopped being “fine” weeks ago. He could argue that things stopped being “fine” when Roman called him saying,  _ “I might have a bit of an issue on my hands,” _ but also Logan turned out to be pretty cool and not a murderer, so it just passed the “fine” test.

The “fine” test which, in his exhausted state, Virgil thought was a proper way of judging how fucked a situation was. All, of course, based on how much said fucked situation, for lack of better words, fucked someone up. If one was stuck in an apartment with at least one vampire who didn’t seem keen on drinking the blood of innocent people? It was fine. If said vampire revealed that there was not only one other vampire but two, both of which couldn’t be found? Thin ice, but still fine. If one of the vampires was to take a person out of their motor vehicle and keep them trapped in an abandoned warehouse, left only to face certain doom and probably death? Not so fine.

Of course there were exceptions to the rules and Virgil could probably think of more and-

“You know, you could at least pretend to listen.”

Virgil jumped at the sudden intrusion, probably more than he should have, and was reminded that he was currently supposed to be talking with Roman. At seeing how surprised Virgil was by his thoughts being interrupted, the amused expression on Roman’s face dropped into something much more concerned.

“I’ve been listening to you for years,” Virgil decided upon with a smirk instead of addressing the surprise, “I think it’s understandable that I’ll need a break every now and then.”

“Perhaps,” Roman said, but the crease between his brows showed that he wouldn’t be letting up any time soon.

Virgil sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “I’ve just been really tired.” Roman hummed, which was Roman speak for  _ I’m-gonna-be-as-quiet-as-possible-so-that-you-feel-comfortable-telling-me-shit-without-interruptions _ . “I just… haven’t been able to sleep a lot.”

Virgil fell into a similar silence and, after a few moments of Virgil suddenly finding the table between them the most interesting thing ever, Roman cleared his throat. “Is it…?”

“D.C.?” Virgil filled in and Roman nodded, “Yeah, I… it’s like, whenever I try to sleep and just forget about it for a couple hours, I’m back there.”

Roman nodded again and traced a finger around the lid of his latte. Roman, a heathen, followed the strict rule that once September began, no matter the temperature, one must give up on cold drinks because it was almost autumn and, therefore, almost time for every holiday flavored latte, but Virgil-

Virgil was very much zoning out again.

Virgil, holding back a sigh, wanted nothing more than to be able to sleep and sleep well.

“It’s a lot,” Virgil continued, “And I’m very tired. And caffeinated coffee has stopped working about thirteen days ago.”

Roman frowned and Virgil looked away and down the street. Few people were out, considering that most were at work. The only reason Roman was with Virgil currently was because he was on his lunch break. If he squinted, he could make out someone walking their dog a long ways down, and occasionally a car would pass and turn down the street, but besides that, it was just him and Roman.

It was that realization that always shocked Virgil, that terrible things could happen to someone and the world would keep on turning. The world would keep on moving forward and Virgil would long to follow in its tracks and, instead, be cemented to where he last stood.

“Have you considered talking to someone?” Roman asked and Virgil arched an eyebrow, “Talking to someone—a therapist, perhaps—might help you?”

Virgil huffed. “I’ve never had to talk to a therapist before.”

“Well, this isn’t then.”

Virgil frowned and shrugged. “Maybe eventually,” he mumbled, “I just-” he worried his bottom lip and Roman, patiently, waited “-I’ve just always managed, you know? I never needed help and it always just worked.”

Roman nodded. “I get what you’re saying, Virge,” he said, “But sometimes it’s better to do more than just managing. And, listen, you know I will do anything to help you out, but we both know that there will come a point when my advice will fall through.”

Virgil stayed silent and picked at his cuticles. He had been able to just manage for years; he had been on his own for years. So similar to Roman and yet, undeniably, there was a divide between the two.

Virgil hadn’t really ever thought that he’d get above just managing.

\--

_ “Here forever might not be very long for you.” _

Virgil’s eyes flew open and, instead of seeing the murky darkness of the warehouse, stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. His heart pounded in his chest and echoed in his ears as his eyes struggled to focus on something.

Rolling onto the side, he winced as the nausea rolled with him. He sucked in a shaky breath as his hands trembled and reached out, fumbling until they hit the light switch next to his bed. Light flooded into the room and Virgil pushed himself up into a sitting position.

The clock on his bedside table said it was just past three-A.M.

Once again, Virgil managed only an hour or two of sleep before the nightmares hit.

He sucked in another breath and let his head drop into his hands. His skin crawled and his pulse hammered erratically; fortunately—or tragically, depending on how one looked at this—Virgil had gotten used to this. He had grown accustomed to the repetitive four-seven-eight breathing, to the nausea that kept him awake and the adrenalin that kept him exhausted. He knew the nervousness and the irritability and the shakiness and everything that came with… this.

He expected it all, and he was tired of it.

When his breathing finally calmed down to the point where he didn’t think he was going to hyperventilate and his legs finally felt like they could hold him, Virgil pushed himself up off his bed. Stumbling through his room, he grabbed the closest clothes he could find and shoved on a pair of shoes.

He was tired of feeling so shitty and he was tired of feeling so shitty alone in his apartment. And if he couldn’t shake how fucking shitty he felt, he could at least change his location.

Virgil tried not to think too much as he walked down the dark city street. In the darkness, it looked like he was the only one out; however, Virgil knew that the darkness could lie. So, to combat the ever-looming feeling that he was being watched, he shoved his shaking fists into his hoodie pocket. The late night air of September was cool with the chill of late summer and Virgil tried to convince himself that his shaking was because of that and nothing else.

Upon arriving to Roman’s door, he realized then that his friend might not even be awake and that this might be a horrible idea and it was probably embarrassing and-

Virgil huffed out a breath and forced his fist to knock on Roman’s door.

What he did not expect was the door to immediately swing open.

Virgil arched an eyebrow at Patton, who stood on the other side of the door. Quickly, though, he let himself muster a smile on his face. “Patton, nice to see you at a time like this.”

“Virgil?” Patton furrowed his eyebrows and Virgil could see the gears turning in his head. “What are you doing here? What are you doing up? Is everything alright?”

Virgil sighed and shrugged. “Everything is going,” he answered, “I came here to…” He trailed off. What did he come here to do? He hadn’t thought much of this plan when he was leaving his apartment in a post-but-still-sorta-anxious haze, and now that he was here, he didn’t know what he wanted.

“To talk, I guess?” Virgil finished. He worried his bottom lip and rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “It’s kinda stupid, I guess, I just- I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to stay in my apartment but I can leave if you-”

“Virgil,” Patton interrupted and Virgil looked back to him. Something in him eased when he saw Patton’s gentle smile. “It’s okay. Roman isn’t awake, but I’m here?”

Virgil nodded. “That’s okay,” he said, “Should we…?” He trailed off again and nodded into Roman’s apartment. 

Patton shook his head and stepped out. “We shouldn’t, not here,” he said, “Wouldn’t want to wake them, you know? Logan can get awfully cranky.” A laugh escaped Virgil and Patton beamed, shutting the door behind him. 

Virgil then followed Patton down the dark apartment hall, feeling the tension in him melt away each time Patton looked over his shoulder and grinned at Virgil, as if he thought Virgil would leave him. When they came to a door labelled  _ ROOF _ in big, bold letters, Virgil slowed to a stop and furrowed his eyebrows.

“The roof?” Virgil questioned and Patton nodded.

“It’s the perfect place to go to think,” he explained, “Or talk. Or anything. It’s…” Patton’s eyes glinted in the darkness and he sighed. “It’s really peaceful.”

Virgil nodded. “I’ll trust you on that,” he said and pushed the door open. He gestured for Patton to take the lead and then began to follow him up the stairs. The door slammed shut behind them, enclosing them in darkness, and Virgil had to hold himself back from reaching for Patton’s hand at the suddenness of it. Instead, he curled his hand against his chest and gripped the front of his hoodie.

Patton pushed the door to the roof open and walked through. Virgil, following behind, gaped at the sight before him. On the roof, he could see all the lights of the city—the city that now seemed so bright—spreading out before him. Even in the middle of the night, he could see the flicker of apartment lights and hear the soft roar of engines blocks away.

“I can see why you find this peaceful,” Virgil said as Patton led him across the roof. Patton didn’t say anything, but Virgil could see that he was nodding.

Patton finally sat down near the edge facing the main street. He crossed his legs underneath him and Virgil sat down next to him, choosing to tug his legs up to his chest and rest his chin on his knees.

“So, before we get into my-” Virgil waved his hand dismissively “-Everything, how was life today in Roman’s apartment?”

Patton laughed and it sounded too forced. “Tense,” he said, “Logan is a bit… mad at me.”

Virgil frowned. “Why?”

“I’ve been thinking about going back downtown,” Patton admitted, “I don’t want to just continue intruding on Roman and Logan’s life together and… and I just don’t want to be in their way.”

“Okay, one, I doubt you’d ever be in their way,” Virgil said, “And, two, can vampires even get apartments?”

Patton nodded. “We have before. And there are still some across the city that wouldn’t be too bad.”

“All because you feel like you’re on top of Logan and Roman?”

“It’s-” Patton sighed “-Yeah. I just… don’t want to be in the way.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow. “And it’s only that?” he pressed, “Nothing else?”

He had gotten the feeling from Roman that something else was going on with Patton. Something that Roman wasn’t going to tell him about.

Something that Virgil hoped he could figure out now.

“Yes, Virge, it’s only that,” Patton said, turning to Virgil with a smile that could have fooled anyone else, but Virgil was immune to fake smiles, “And Logan’s just a bit annoyed with me about that because, well, we’ve been with each other for… almost two centuries now. But, I mean, he has Roman, and I don’t want to be in the middle of that.”

Virgil smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Patton shook his head, staring out at the city skyline. “The opposite, really,” he said, “I’m so,  _ so _ happy for Logan. For Roman. Both of them. And it’s not my place to get in between that.”

“But you won’t be getting in between that.”

Patton shrugged. “It’s hard to explain, I guess,” he said and, with that, ended that part of the conversation by continuing with, “So, what’s your ‘everything’?”

For a moment, Virgil wanted to press more, wanted to figure out why Patton was suddenly so ready to detach from his closest friend, but he figured he wasn’t going to get any of the answers that he wanted.

So, instead, Virgil sighed and looked up at the vast sky above him and suddenly found what he had been feeling for… for a long time. Finally found out what it was that had been following him for years and years and, perhaps, finally caught up to him.

“Not to sound completely and disgustingly poetic, but do you ever look up at the stars and feel alone?” Virgil asked, “Or… no, not alone, but like you’re on your own? That no matter who you have at your side, it’s just you? And facing this… abyss is finally what puts you into that reality?”

“Why do you think you’re on your own?” Patton asked. It wasn’t pitying or denying what Virgil had said; it was just curious. As if Patton understood perhaps even just a fraction of what Virgil was talking about.

“Because I always have been,” Virgil said, “Even when my mom was alive, I had to get used to doing everything by myself, for myself. And sometimes I see all these people and hang out with them and, at the end of the day, I always end up… in my apartment, on my own, fending for myself because that’s what I have to do. It’s not even like I’m bitter—well, not _ always _ —but it’s… a strange feeling, seeing life how it is: me and only me against the world.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil saw Patton look up, too. “Your mother,” he said, “She wasn’t there for you?”

Virgil shook his head. “The exact opposite,” he corrected, “She… she did everything for me.”

“What was she like?” Virgil turned to look at Patton, who was already looking back at him, and couldn’t help but smile.

“Really nice, despite everything,” Virgil began, looking back out into the city, “She had me right after she got out of college. Her and my dad were young, hoping that her English degree would get her a stable teaching job and be what carries her and my dad.” He huffed his hair out of his eyes. “Well, a couple months into living together, my dad bailed.”

“Oh,” Patton said and Virgil could hear the frown in it, “Virgil…”

“It’s alright,” Virgil said, “Or, okay, maybe not so much, because I still sometimes get… really angry, but you don’t need to apologize. Maybe things would have been better with him around, maybe things would have been completely different, but me and my mom got by. She made it so that we’d get by. She didn’t get a teaching job. She ended working at this kinda shitty twenty-four hour diner and would basically be working from early in the morning to late at night.”

Patton frowned. “And you would just be left alone?”

“Not really,” he said, “Her boss loved her and understood her situation so, before I was in school, I was allowed to hang out there. And then once I started school, her boss allowed her to leave work to drive me to and from school. It worked for a while. She worked seven days a week, I went to school and didn’t leave her side any other time. It wasn’t the best, but we survived.”

Virgil sighed and leaned back, deciding to lie down on the roof. Patton followed suit. “And then, the moment I was able to work, I took on a job to help out and started doing things on my own,” he continued, “As I got older, instead of staying at that diner all day, I would stay around the house and manage the house and make meals and get myself to and from school. I wanted to do everything I could to make things easier for her, you know?”

“You were doing all you could,” Patton said softly and Virgil worried his bottom lip.

“Sometimes I think I could have done more,” he said, “I think she could have been a teacher, but she didn’t want to leave me alone. I just feel like… when I got older, I should have encouraged her to go back and try again but I just didn’t think of it. Maybe I held her back, I don’t know…”

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Virgil,” Patton murmured.

“Maybe not, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Changing her job wouldn’t have changed anything else,” Virgil said. After swallowing thickly, he continued, “She got sick when I was in my sophomore year of high school. I was sixteen and should’ve known by then that the world wasn’t fair, but I still hoped, you know? I still hoped despite it being too late and-” He cut himself off, releasing a shaky breath.

Patton reached over and took Virgil’s hand. For the first time, there was no surge of emotion rushing into Virgil and, instead, just the comfort that came with knowing that someone was there with him.

“After her funeral, I had little family left,” he continued once he properly regained his voice, “Her parents died long ago, and that was when I found out that my dad died in an accident when I was a child. Not that I really would’ve wanted to live with him, anyway. So, I ended up moving in with her younger brother. They were never close, considering the fact that he was… nine—I think?—when she had me. Like, here was this twenty-five year old now taking care of a sixteen year old and, it wasn’t like he was a bad guy, but he was just as clueless as anyone would be. He had barely spoken to my mom and now he had to take care of her child.

“At that point, it really was me on my own. He was still in school, getting his Masters or PhD or whatever, and I just pushed myself through school. At that point in my life, I knew that there was nothing left for me there. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with family that I’ve never been close with.”

“So you moved here,” Patton finished and Virgil nodded.

“A couple weeks after graduation, I moved out here into a shitty apartment—I’m serious, the building itself isn’t even standing anymore—and joined the agency. I had always heard about these monster hunters who saved the day and were able to do it on their own, sometimes with a partner, and I just thought that that—that  _ this _ —could be my ticket to being my own person and being able to carry myself.”

Virgil fell silent and turned to look at Patton, who was looking up into the night sky. “I think she’d be proud of you,” he said and Virgil’s throat tightened.

“Thanks,” he said with a cough and, with his free hand, rubbed the corners of his eyes, “I hope so.”

“Considering what you’ve done, despite your old situation and her passing and everything else, I really think she would be.”

Virgil sighed. “I sometimes get jealous of Roman, you know? Or… maybe not Roman, or even his situation, but the fact that both his parents are alive and thriving in the world but are such shitty people. Like, neither of them care about their only son and never did anything for him, and yet they get to be healthy and rich and acting without a care in the world. Meanwhile, my mom did everything she could have for me and she didn’t even make it to my high school graduation.”

“The world isn’t always kind to the best people,” Patton murmured and Virgil scoffed.

“Yeah, you can say that again.”

“What was her name? Your mother’s.”

“Ruth,” Virgil said, the name falling off his tongue naturally, as if it never left. “Ruth Elizabeth Winter.”

“Well, she sounds like she was a lovely, compassionate woman,” Patton said. Virgil smiled.

“She really was,” Virgil said, “And, not gonna lie, I kinda wish she was able to meet Roman. I didn’t have many friends growing up, never really focused on that when I had so many other responsibilities, so she would’ve loved to meet a friend of mine. Plus, Roman is such a charmer, they would’ve gotten along just fine.”

“At least you two have each other.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said with a chuckle, “Did you know that I couldn’t stand Roman when we first met?”

Patton laughed. “Really?”

Virgil nodded. “I saw this guy—who had only been at the agency for a year longer than me—acting as if he was the best thing to ever walk through the doors and I just… couldn’t stand him. And then when I learned that his father was  _ the _ Gerald Prince, one of the biggest business tycoons? His family could have used my house as a closet. He was everything I wasn’t. All I saw in Roman was this pompous douchebag who had everything in life handed down to him.” 

He sighed and shook his head. Years later, he still couldn’t shake the guilt that came with the rash assumptions he put on Roman. Maybe, at the time, they were justified. Virgil had nothing while Roman had everything, and Virgil had had his fill of rich assholes years prior. But, still, something always felt wrong about the judgements he made.

“For my first couple weeks there, I did everything in my power to avoid him,” Virgil continued, “And he just wouldn’t leave my side. It was like he wanted to be friends, so he decided that we were. It didn’t help when we were assigned a case together.”

“And then what happened?” Patton asked.

“Well, I was prepared for Roman to be a total asshole. You know, him treating me like an idiot who didn’t know how to do my job,” he said, “It was a simple case. Fae stuff. And, well, instead of being condescended to or cursed, I found a best friend.”

Patton furrowed his eyebrows. “What changed?”

“Well, not to sound cliche-” Virgil forced a laugh “-But I learned then who Roman actually was and still is. Sure, he can be cocky, charismatic, whatever word you want to use, but he’s also just… a really great guy and a really great best friend who could’ve been given everything by his father if said father gave a shit about him and, instead, he made a name of his own. I… I sometimes get really stressed out thinking about how, if we didn’t get that case together, maybe we would’ve never become friends.”

“Does he know?” Patton asked, “That you didn’t-”

“Like him?” Virgil finished and Patton nodded. With a laugh, he nodded. “Uh, yeah. A couple weeks into being friends, I got really anxious that he hated me because, I don’t know, something must have happened to set me off. Anyways, I got super nervous that he hated me so I ran to him, an anxious mess, apologizing for thinking that he was an asshole and that I understood if he hated me and never wanted to see my face again.”

Patton frowned. “What’d he say?”

“Roman told me that he would’ve found it kinda hysterical if I wasn’t so anxious,” Virgil said, “So he was actually pretty concerned and we spent a half hour going back and forth between my profuse apologies and his reassurances.”

“And look at you two now,” Patton said with a grin, “Still as strong as ever!”

Virgil laughed. “With just as much breakdowns and bickering and occasional threatening to run him over with a car.”

“All done out of love, of course,” Patton added.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Pat,” Virgil said with a smirk. Patton laughed and Virgil’s smirk turned into a grin. “But, you know, sometimes I think back to when I first met Roman and I think he was just trying to prove that he could do something and succeed. He wanted someone to be proud of him, someone to like him for what he does and not what he has.”

At Patton’s sudden quietness, Virgil turned back to Patton and arched an eyebrow when he saw the other studying him.

“What are you trying to prove, Virgil?”

Of all the things Virgil expected Patton to ask, it wasn’t that.

“Me?” Virgil scoffed. “I’m not trying to prove anything.” 

And then Virgil stopped and thought back. He thought about all the lies that he has told, how many times he has told people that he was fine when he could feel everything shattering in him. He thought about how he longed to show that maybe, just maybe, things could be normal, only for him to break and crumble on his first night home.

Maybe he  _ was  _ trying to prove something.

“Maybe I’m trying to… to prove to my mom, prove to everyone, that I’m okay,” Virgil finally decided on, “That I can handle the world on my own.”

“Are you?”

Virgil sighed. “I don’t know anymore.”

“I think you’re going to be okay, Virge,” Patton said.

Virgil slid Patton a disbelieving look. “You call this ‘being okay’?”

“You might not be okay now,” Patton said, “But that doesn’t mean you’ll never be okay.”

Virgil managed a smile. “Thanks, Pat,” he said, “So, then what are you trying to prove?”

Patton forced a laugh. “I haven’t tried proving anything to anyone in a long time.”

Virgil frowned. “Well, then what were you trying to prove?”

Patton sighed and any smile, any happiness, forced or not, fell off his face. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Virgil furrowed his eyebrows and pushed himself up onto his elbow. He stared down at Patton, who pointedly avoided his gaze. He could see something bubbling in Patton, just under the surface, something that longed to escape and be heard and yet something that had been locked up for a long, long time.

“Who’s looking out for you, Patton?” He asked and Patton gave him a confused look. “You watch over us, and let’s not forget our resident love birds, and even before that, Roman and I had each other. But what about you?”

“Well, Logan has me so-”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Virgil interrupted, “Logan has you to watch over him. But does he watch over you? You protect everyone, but who protects you?”

Patton scoffed, a sudden bitterness Virgil hadn’t expected. “I don’t protect everyone, I can’t,” he said, his voice tense, “And, like you, I was able to manage on my own.”

“But I had someone with me,” Virgil continued, “Someone watching over me. Who do you have, Patton?”

“I have myself, Virgil,” Patton answered, “I’ve always had myself. I’ve always been able to manage by myself.”

Virgil frowned. “You know we’re here for you, Patton.”

“And I think you need to take care of yourself, Virgil,” Patton said. Virgil would’ve taken the statement as passive aggressive if Patton didn’t suddenly sound so… tired. “You’ve been through so much, you… you don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m anxious, Patton. Worrying is what I do.”

“I’m serious, Virgil,” Patton said, sitting up, “Tell me that you won’t worry about me. Tell me that you will take care of yourself before you even think about being concerned about me.”

“Patton, I-”

“Virgil,” Patton pressed, and the desperation in his voice caught Virgil off guard, “ _ Please. _ ”

Virgil sighed. “Patton, I-”

Virgil was cut off by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He was prepared to reject the call and force an answer out of Patton, but seeing Patton stare off into the skyline and not at Virgil, he sighed and slipped his phone out.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Virgil asked once he answered.

“Shouldn’t you be, too?” Roman asked, obviously tired, on the other end.

“I don’t sleep, Ro. You know this.”

“I do,” he mumbled and Virgil had a feeling he was about to fall back asleep wherever he was standing, “Is Patton with you? I woke up to get water and he’s not here and Logan will freak if-”

“He’s with me,” Virgil cut in, “We’re on the roof.”

“Oh,” Roman said as if that was a completely normal statement, “Well, be safe.”

And then the line went out.

Classic Roman.

“We should probably get back inside,” Patton mumbled, “Since it seems like they’re wondering where we are.”

“But, wait, Patton, what do you mean by-”

“Let’s just go inside, Virgil,” Patton sighed, pushing himself up onto his feet. He reached a hand out to Virgil and, after a slight hesitation, he allowed Patton to pull him up. Patton kept Virgil’s hand in his and looked down. “Thank you for opening up to me, and I want nothing more than for you to be happy, but… but there are some things from the past that shouldn’t be brought up. I just need to know that you’ll take care of yourself. That’s what matters to me. That you’ll keep doing your best to move forward and work to be okay.”

Virgil swallowed thickly. “Patton, I- you-” he cut himself off at the pleading look Patton gave him and, begrudgingly, sighed. “Fine. I’ll try.”

Patton gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, Virgil.”

And, with that, Virgil followed Patton back down the stairs and to Roman’s apartment, unable to ignore the unease coiling in his gut at the thought that something wasn’t right, something wasn’t right at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ethospathoslogan.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> ethospathoslogan.tumblr.com


End file.
